The BloomThere are, for some reason I do not know, a great deal of crows about. I do not know exactly how many, but I would put it up near a thousand of them. They have been congregating on the crowns of leafless trees, dots against the sky. So many of them are so perfectly still that it seems they are ornaments, but a few wheel and turn in the air, seeking new position on the branches. This does not dispel the illusion - this somehow makes it worse.
They would be like fruit but they do not hang. Rather: they are dark blossoms, bobbing in the wind.
All content under copyright by the author. Dancing is permitted. The strange deltic glyphs in the sand under tidal flow are a pleasure to watch in their deepening. Offer not valid in Kansas. We put it down and then we lost it. It all happens in the corner of the eye. Commentary accepted at pen@goob.com, although the traps are agressive and the pointy bits simply drip with dark liquour. We have a dog, but we do not own it. Thank you.